


The After Hours

by clumsycopy



Category: Girls (TV)
Genre: Choking, Edgeplay, F/M, Hand Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Teasing, innocence kink, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsycopy/pseuds/clumsycopy
Summary: You begrudgingly offer to help a desperate colleague with an assignment and he offers an unorthodox way of paying you back. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Adam Sackler/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

_ Ah, victory. _

The overwhelming number of open tabs--so many that their titles are no longer visible--fuck off into empty pixels as you close the browser and you’ve never witnessed a prettier sight. Friday night. All assignments turned in before the deadline, with high chances of a passing grade. A warm bed and an endless amount of TV shows are waiting for you in your dorm.  _ Just gotta get there, I’m so tired. _

A series of bangs interrupts your reverie, a frown souring your face. You spring to your feet, slinging your backpack over a shoulder. Walking across the empty rows of computers, you’re surprised to find a lit screen. There’s… a guy. Your eyes swipe across his hulking form, he’s so tall that the desk might as well be his chair. He’s got a hand splayed over the cheap wood, while the other is busy spanking the side of a CPU.    
  
_ What the hell? No one else should be in at this hour.  _

“Hey, you there!” you shout. “Yes, you dumb fuck hitting a computer. Stop right this second.” Reaching his row, you drop your bag at your feet, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ll fucking stop when this is working,” he growls, face half-lit with the blue tones of the monitor.

“It would be way more useful if you banged your head instead.” You stomp closer, glaring at his hand until he catches your hint and lets go of the PC. “Maybe it  _ could  _ spark some primitive brain functionality. I probably wouldn’t count on it.”

A line creases on his brows, his plump mouth curling down.“So that’s how you speak to the students you’re supposed to assist,” he pauses, reading your name on your badge, spitting each syllable as if it’s venom. “If I knew there was T.A. here all this time we’d have been talking a lot sooner.”   
  
His gaze lingers a moment longer as he still stares at the small rectangle dangling on your chest.

“If you’re not a computer  _ engineering  _ student, then I don’t have to help you. I’m kicking you out because I’m closing the lab. You should be happy I’m  _ not _ reporting you for damage to faculty property. This time.” Raising your chin, your eye twitches at how  _ much _ you need to tilt your head to look at him.

He grasps the back of the chair he had been sitting on, bending forward to bring his face closer to yours. “You… shouldn’t be able to kick me out...” He says your name again, and you find yourself burning to make him say it over and over, to make him yell and cry and whisper  _ your name _ in a broken moan as he comes apart for you. 

A constellation of beauty marks scatters across his skin, you’re jumping with the need to bridge the distance and count each and every one of them with a kiss, tracing your tongue across the span of his face. Your fingers twitch and you choke on the urge to trail your knuckles over his long nose as you’re lured by his sharp, vulturous eyes.

_ I hate him and I don’t even know his name.  _ Trailing your gaze over the expanse of his chest, you don’t find the ID you’re looking for, but then you move  _ lower _ , finding the flimsy plastic attached to his belt loop.  _ Adam Sackler it is. _

He says something then, his deep, booming voice startling you.

Shuffling backwards, you almost fall, tripping over your backpack. Shame burns on your cheeks, increasing with every second you keep reproaching yourself. Clearing your throat, you continue,”I can and I’ll hurl you to the door if it comes to it. What do you even think you’re accomplishing by hitting a computer? If whatever you’ve written is not working, it’s entirely  _ your _ fault, not the program’s. It’s only executing what you’ve instructed it to.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been wasting my time here and nothing is working.” He turns his head towards the monitor, revealing the side view of his face. A ear peeks out from beneath his dark hair and the way his long nose twitches as he frowns is  _ perfect _ .

Sighing, you switch your gaze from him to the screen, then to the vacant seat at his left and to the clock. You know you’ve lost when you’re pulling the chair back so you can sit on it. “What are you trying to do?”

“A loop.” He settles down beside you, all of his four large, enormous limbs tucked somehow under the desk. His foot taps on the linoleum, knee bumping against the bottom of the table, sending vibrations rattling down your spine. The breadth of his shoulders and back is too great to be contained by the meager chair, he’s encroaching on some of your space, close enough to set your flesh alight with the proximity of his body.

“Show me, Adam” you say, eyes scanning over the dozens of lines he’s written so far. Once he highlights the relevant portion, you spot the issue. “Alright, I see what you’re missing. You’re close to getting it, want to take another look and try to guess it for yourself?”

“Fuck no, I don’t even think I can read anymore, my eyes are shot, I just want to get this dumb assignment done and go home.” His hand engulfs the mouse, it’s a wonder he can click a button or manage to type something, given that the keyboard looks more like a trackpad when under his massive fingers.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you reply, “Well, yeah, so do I, since I’ve already  _ finished _ my work and was about to leave. Maybe next time you can pick easier classes if you don’t want to crack your head with the tasks. I see in the header comment of your code that you’ve chosen to do it in x86 Assembly. Why?” Your voice is trembling as you try to police your tone, as much as there’s a lot you’d like to say to him, doing so while under the academic institution can earn you a whole array of trouble.   


He laughs, scratching at his coarse goatee. “Are you this stressed all the time?”

“I- are you for real? I’m trying to help you, and you have the gall to call  _ me _ stressed? You know what, go home and tank your grade, I don’t care, I’m out.” Leaping to your feet, you throw the chair back, shuddering at the inharmonious sound of its legs scraping on the floor. You lean down to pick up your belongings, stopping when warm, thick digits capture your wrist. As your pulse soars, you hope with all your dumb heart and smooth brain that he doesn’t feel the thrumming just beneath the pads of his fingers.

“Wait!” He rakes a thumb over the delicate skin, applying pressure on your scorching flesh.

“What?” you snarl, whirling around and coiling a hand around his forearm. The muscles under your grip are firm, even as you dig the tips of your fingers into his arm you find some resistance, he probably doesn’t feel a thing.   


You’re trapped into a staredown, gazing deep into his amber flecked eyes, stuck in a deadlock as you hold onto each other, neither willing to let go first.

He sighs groans, lips parting to reveal an adorable set of crooked teeth. “I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’ll try to not do that again. Damn it, Hannah’s fucking right and I hate it, she said I say the wrong thing at the worst time possible. I keep digging myself into a hole, I’m loud, I’m too big, I’m too much and I ramble. Bet the error’s right in front of me and I’m not seeing it.” 

“I wouldn’t count on whoever  _ Hannah _ is to be one hundred percent right. Of all these things I agree you’re big. Maybe a bit rambly. I’ve heard worse, I’m not cataloging you into the asshole bucket just yet, Sackler.” You offer a half-smile, heart almost bursting with contentment when he retributes with a wider one. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you, yes, the error is right in front of you and you’re not really seeing it, but you’ll find it and you’ll fix it. Then, you’ll always remember it whenever you’re programming again and you’ll be able to catch the mistake as soon as it happens. If it happens.”   
  
“Guess one last try can’t make this any worse,” he mumbles, tone lower and deeper.   


A beat of silence passes and in an unspoken agreement, you release each other. The whole room seems to be taken by a freezing chill now that he’s not touching you anymore. You step over to his right side, pretending you don’t feel his stare on you, half-sitting on the desk, letting your other leg dangle. If you swing your foot you’ll reach his lap, and maybe you’re not alone in that line of thought. Sackler’s voracious gaze is fixed on the spot where your bodies almost collide.

You cough, averting his attention to your face, jaw clenching as you pray you can maintain your composure long enough for you to help him and go back to your apartment. “List the constructs you need to execute a loop,” you say, pointing to the screen.

“A block of code,” he trails off, waiting for acknowledgement, “and a condition.”

You nod, probably way more enthusiastic than you should be, considering the most exciting event of your Friday is helping a rando well past your office hours. “Exactly. You have all of those in your program. Do you think the condition is always returning the right value?”

He leans closer, the edge of his desk digging into his flesh, stretching his already snug t-shirt even tighter over his wide chest. “Can’t believe I didn’t fucking see this an hour ago, kid” Sackler hisses. The collar of his shirt slips down a little, revealing more of the column of his neck and teasing the skin of his torso. It’s littered with as many moles as his face, firm muscles rippling when he shifts on his seat.   
  
“Kid?” you taunt, arching an eyebrow. “Who the fuck you think you are, Han Solo?”

A huge smile stretches across his face, revealing more of the crooked teeth, eyes wrinkling just  _ right _ . “I’m sorry, was that too informal for you, Supreme Leader?”

“Supreme Leader is a bit much but I’ll take it,” you laugh, body humming with this new wave of delight that crashes and pools at your stomach. “Now, how are you going to fix your issue?”

“I need to make sure the counter variable is also getting decreased, then the code won’t keep looping forever. I’ve looked at this tiny, lame screen a million times and I never saw what was wrong. Then  _ you _ tell me to do it again as if it would make a difference and it works. I don’t get it, it doesn’t make any sense.” 

“It would, if you were smarter.” You’re not inclined to move from where you’re sitting, not when you have the perfect view of his big nose, of the way it sticks out from his face, scrunching a bit when he frowns upon hearing your teasing words.

He crosses his arms, leaning back on his seat. “You have the right temper to be a professor, I want to congratulate you for picking the right track, I have to give you that.”

"The only reason I became a T.A. was for the power trip I can get whenever I help unfortunate students like you.” Tilting your head to the side, you read over his code one more time, searching for anything else that you could have missed. “I'm still salty that you thought hitting a computer was a good idea," you drawl. When you turn back towards him, you swear he’s closer than before. Sackler’s near enough for your ankle to graze the side of his thigh; the coarse fibers of his jeans tickle the slit of exposed skin.

"I didn't see why not to do that… it works on my fridge," he shrugs.    
  
You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Toying with your sleeve, you’re trying to come up with  _ something _ to say, but the avid glint in his eyes as he stares at your calf and the way his cheekbones hollow as he grinds his jaw erases any thread of rational thought.

"Now, I'm saying this with all the affection in the world: please get out, I need to close the lab." 

“Hmm,” he hums, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Do you? Something tells me you have nowhere else to be.” When he lifts his gaze, his pupils are blown out, encroaching most of his honeyed irises.

“You can’t just  _ assume  _ that. What if I have a party to attend?” Motioning to slide off the desk, you’re stopped by a hand that settles on your hip, palm pressing against the yielding flesh.

“You do, kid? Where?” His thumb glides back and forth, causing every gust of breath to evade your lungs.

“The bar.” As soon as the answer leaves your idiotic mouth, you wish you could take it back.

“ _ The  _ bar? Yeah, I know exactly the one you're talking about. I wasn’t aware that there’s only  _ one  _ in the whole campus,” he huffs, carding his free hand through his unruly hair.

_ No backing out, now. We die like men.  _ Your fingers are cold and sweaty, sticking on your skin as you scratch the back of your neck. “It’s the one across the street from the History & Philosophy building. You’ve probably been there before.”

“Oh, I have. Shame it closed two months ago.” He grins once more, sharp teeth glistening as his smile stretches larger and larger. “It’s alright to have no plans for your night. Nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’m  _ honored _ to be the highlight of your evening.”

Taking in a sharp breath, you hope your face doesn’t betray the desperate need that’s coursing through your body. “Highlight? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No. I think that’s exactly it.” He squeezes your hip once, then trails his hand down your thigh, grazing his fingers over your leggings.   


It’s as if your blood is rising to meet his touch, your body heats up, moisture draining from your mouth; you want to claw out of your clothes and let the frigid air soothe your febrile skin.

Sackler leans his head down, nipping at the hem of your dress. “I haven't thanked you yet for helping me out. For being so, so good to me.”   
  
A languid whimper escapes you before you can do anything about it.  _ Fuck. _   
  
“What was that?” he murmurs against your thigh, hot breath fanning through the slim fabric that still covers you.   
  
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you say, “It’s nothing... I’m glad I could help-”

“You shivered too.” Sackler plants kisses on your leg, trailing upwards until the bridge of his nose rests on the apex of your thighs.

The hem of your dress is now rendered useless as it lies bunched up at your hips. He snaps his hands to the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down at an agonizing pace.    
  
“No, I  _ didn’t _ ,” you hiss through gritted teeth. You'd rather chew on a keyboard than ever, absolutely ever admit he's right. Each inch of skin that he exposes lights on fire, a flame that’s at the same time fueled and extinguished by his touch.

“You fucking did. When I said you were  _ good  _ to me.” He gives your thigh a quick slap, massaging the stinging flesh. “There it is. No no no, don’t give me the looking away bullshit. Want me to praise you, is that it?”

Your hips buck, but he keeps your legs in place, letting out a growl from the depths of his throat. Sackler grips your knees--planting goosebumps as he caresses your flesh--and spreads them apart.

“I- I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t mean because I asked you to.” Your mouth falls open when he starts to shred your leggings in two, splitting the fabric as if it's paper. In no time you’re bare to him from the waist down, bare to his touch, his warmth; raw and eager beneath his stare.

“I wouldn’t do that. I mean every word.” He drops to his knees, bracing himself by the bruising hold he now has on your thighs. “I think I ripped your underwear too. I’m sorry,” he breathes your name, eyes flickering to your face for an instant, “I’ll make it up to you.”   
  
“You better do, Sackler, or I swear I will destroy- fuck!” you cry out, tirade long forgotten now that you’re distracted by a series of wet kisses that edge closer and closer to your cunt.   
  
“Care to say that again? You will ‘destroy-fuck’ me? No, you will stay put. If you want to keep being good to me you won’t move an inch. Got it?” He bites at your inner thigh, hard enough to make you twitch, but light enough not to break your skin… yet.   
  
“You’re an asshole!” you cry out, shooting daggers at him. You want to wipe that dangerous, arrogant, cocky, self-assured smile off his face but what you want even harder is to have him finish what he started. Inhaling a deep breath, you make a point to show off how  _ still _ you are, save for the subtle rise and fall of your chest and the muted pants that escape you every now and then.   
  
“Much better.” Sackler drags his tongue over the area where he bit you, pressing on the tender spot until he has you on the verge of squirming under his hold. When he hears a pained, desperate wail, he  _ moves _ .   
  
Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he yanks you closer to him, causing you to squeal in surprise as you reach backward in search of something to grip. Instead you shove the monitor off the desk and a crash resounds in the quiet, windowless room.   
  
Your back is now splayed over the vacant space on the table, forearms braced at your sides, palms holding on the edge. Lifting your head to search for his gaze in the dark, you ask, “Do you think I broke it?” 

“Yes,” he chuckles, “you did. You’re a fucking vandal, destroying faculty property. I should turn you in. Too bad I’m going to be so busy making you forget everything but my name.”   
  
His warm breath teases your drenched cunt, you feel the infinitesimal changes in the almost non-existent space between his mouth and your heat, knowing he’s about to touch you instills a new surge of wetness. “I doubt that,” you retort in a broken voice.

Instead of answering, he dips his head forward, having the nerve to  _ wink _ at you before he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. True to your word you remain still, even while every fiber of your body is flaring, sending mixed, fragmented signals; yearning for more, for less, for him to go deeper, to give you a break. 

Sackler kneads the pliant flesh of your hips as he leans further into the act, laving his tongue faster and harder. Up, down, left, right he repeats no pattern, does everything in his power to make it as unpredictable as possible, to keep you guessing and tuned to his every move. When he pulls back, he’s enraptured by the tiny glints of wetness spread over your glistening pussy.    
  
His cock hardens with each pant he pulls from you, with the little gasps that you struggle to silence, the moans that die when you bite your lip, the muted, almost intelligible whispers where you say  _ don’t stop _ over and over. Adam shifts to the balls of his feet, splaying one hand over your lower stomach and then runs his thumb over your dripping cunt, gathering your wetness.When he’s about to touch your clit, he stops, eyes trained on your face.

Agonizing seconds tick by as you wait for him to do something.   
  
“Adam?” you call out, craning your neck to look at him.

“Hmm?” he grins, knowing and savouring how much he’s aggravating you. Moving his hands to caress your thighs, he watches your reaction every time the pads of his fingers roam closer to your heat, but never stopping or touching you there again.

“Why... why did you  _ stop _ ?” you draw out each word, struggling to form a simple question.

“Do you want me to keep going?” To your fury, he shifts further away, making a point to cross his arms.   
  
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Isn’t it obvious?” your mouth opens and closes, but your mind’s too scrambled to think of anything else to add.

“It is. But it makes me way fucking harder when I hear you say it. Especially with this murderous look you have right now… I know you want to claw my eyes out.” He bites his lip, offering you a smile when you’re about to lunge at him. “If you want me to keep going, you better start talking.”

_ Stupid prick, he has no right looking this adorable. _

“Alright.” You shift in your seat, opening your legs wider. “Adam Sackler, I want you to keep eating me out. I also want to bonk you in the head with a keyboard, but maybe we can leave that for later.”

“Kinky. Vandalism is my jam. Since you asked so nicely…” He lunges in a heartbeat, knees slamming to the ground, going from zero to a hundred and sucking your clit under his plush lips. “I don’t want to stop, I could stay here all night, making you cum so many times you’d never forget me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you taunt, voice faltering once he increases the speed and pressure of his tongue. “It would take something short of a brain injury for me to forget y- forget tonight anytime soon.” You’re on the brink of overstimulation, feet buckling, hitting the hard span of his back as you try to make sense of the raw, sharp bursts of pleasure that threatens to overtake you.   
  
“If you’re still alert enough to roast me,” he pulls back and spits over your cunt, watching as you clench over nothing, “then I’m not doing enough.”

Whatever snarky reply you had in mind proves useless when Sackler ramps up to the max. He coils an arm around your thighs, reaching over with his other hand across the length of your body wrapping his whole palm over your throat. He’s not squeezing-yet-applying just enough pressure for you to know his hand is  _ there _ , that it’s  _ big _ , so large that it feels as if there’s an iron shackle around your neck.

His feral eyes peer up at you, they’re about the only part of his features you can see, given that his mouth is descending lower and lower, the long bridge of his nose pressing against your folds.   
  
Sackler clamps his hand once and that’s all you need to let go. “Adam, I’m going to-”

“No, you’re not,” he jumps back, getting a few feet away from you just for good measure, eyes scanning your quaking body as your orgasm withers.

An annoying ache throbs in your temple, your eyes twitches and your mouth distorts in a snarl, “You fucking peverted asshole, why did you do this?”

“Peverted asshole?” He undoes his fly. “What else?

Catching on his little game, you prop on leg up on the desk, letting the other dangle free, relishing in the way his eyes track your every move. “I bet you sleep with every girl that helps you. Gonna add me to that list, huh? Do you always whore yourself out for a better grade?”

“The pot calling the kettle black. Do you sleep with every dumb fuck that asks for your help? Is that what you do in your office hours, TA?” He yanks his jeans down--sans underwear. “Let me help you rephrase it. Repeat after me, ‘you’re a pervert and I am your desperate little slut’.”

This time you feel a new gush of wetness dripping out of you, just by listening to the goddamned way he  _ speaks _ . “You’re a pervert and I am your desperate little slut.”

“Doing so well for me...” he groans, head falling back as he palms his cock with ferocity.

You whimper at the sight, it looks big next to his already huge hand, what is it going to look like once it’s next to yours?   
  
“Shh… shh… you’re being too loud. Don’t want the cleaning crew walking in on us, right, kid?” he pants, nostrils flared, jaw slacked open and throat strung tight as he struggles to keep quiet himself. He sways closer.

“No,” you reply in a weak voice, gaze fixed on the fast and rough pace that Adam set, watching his cock bob up and down like a moth drawn to a flame. 

His hand smacks against his body, tireless grunts bubbling on his throat. “Can you be quieter? Be good for me, hmm?” His tone is sweet as sugar, revealing no hint of the feral frenzy that he’s holding in, of how he almost just came by seeing you hang onto his every word, staring up at him with glazed over eyes.

“Yes, I’ll be quieter, just come back here,” you wail, reaching out a hand to pull him closer.   
  
He takes it, interlacing his fingers with yours, walking forward until he’s standing between your parted legs. Sackler guides your hand to cusp his balls, eyes rolling back along with a string of hissed curses.   
  
“You said you were going to make me cum so many times… I’m still waiting,” you drawl, mouth curved in a pout. Squeezing as little as you can, you’re rewarded with a grunt, his whole body tenses, legs spasming and thrashing against the desk.   
  
“I will, but I’m doing it  _ my _ way.” He rests his free hand on the hair at the crown of your head. “I bet your cunt’s so fucking tight right now. Tight and wet, dripping for me.”   
  
“It is.” You wrap your legs around his thighs, hoping that’s enough to stop him from moving away from you again.   
  
“Do you think you can take me? Can’t have you crying on my cock,” he folds his body forward, whispering right over the shell of your ear.

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you whisper. Once you feel him pulling back in the slightest, your hands snap to grasp at his sweater, wrenching the fabric nearer you. “Don’t you dare pull away and stop again, you stupid-”   


He laughs, plucking your wrists away as if you were doing nothing, bringing them up to his lips so he can nibble and suck at the skin.   
  
“I bet those hands do a lot more than type stupidly fast. Come on, switch places with me.” He unhooks your legs from around his thighs, bracing on the desk and standing to his full height, which is approximately six-foot-pretty-fucking tall.   


You bump against his solid chest, built like a wall, hand twitching as you fight the urge to grope him into oblivion. “What are you doing?” you grumble as he takes your spot.

“How can I expect you to take my cock if you don’t even know how to jerk me off? We’ll start there.” He points to a spot on the floor. “Kneel there and give me your hands.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lowering to the ground, you position yourself between his feet, gaining the perfect view of his strong thighs spread over the desk, at the perfect height for you to bite on them. Raising your wrists above the flat surface, you offer them to Sackler, shuddering at how  _ warm _ his hands are as he grabs your limbs.

He guides one of your hands to wrap around his shaft, squeezing once as a cue for you to keep it there. If you thought his skin was steaming hot, it pales in comparison to his cock. You tighten you grip on his length, clenching around the emptiness you wish was filled by him.

“Desperate girl… did I tell you to do that?” Adam coos, snapping his hand to grab your jaw.

“No,” you answer in a muted voice, shaking your head.

“I thought you were all about following instructions,” he raises an eyebrow, cracking a smile at you. 

“Well, that’s more for the computer than for me, really-” your voice is muffled by a huge palm that now covers your mouth. His skin is salty and warm, you lick at it once by accident, eyelids fluttering as you savour this taste you won’t forget soon.   


“Is that so? From now on, you’re gonna do everything I fucking say. You’re my… my little droid now.” He rattles your head up and down. "Got it?"

"Uh-huh." You answer, voice escaping from between your squished cheeks.

He releases the iron-tight grip on your jaw. His thumb swipes your lips and your mouth falls open right away. Grinning at the sight, he pulls his hand back, blood thrumming against his ears as he imagines making you gag on his fingers, his cock, pumping his cum down your waiting throat. "Good droid," he praises, not missing the way you gaze softens for him.

This stupid name has no right making you this horny. But it does, it appeals to a feral, primal, desperate part of your brain that wants to excel at whatever he sets out for you to do. The thought of doing everything he says, taking no part in the decision making process, being a mere tool to his whims elicits a jolt of breathless anticipation across the length of your spine. Your stare flicks to the thick cock that’s straining against your grip, the tips of your fingers not touching over the sheer girth of it.

"Eyes on me, I'm trying to teach you something," he snaps, baritone voice laced with mock displeasure.

Wild, dilated pupils seek the carved perfection of his face, as you settle your focus on the demanding, honeyed irises that peer back at you.

Grunting, he grabs your free hand and brings it closer to his crotch. "Cup my balls. Jiggle them. Use your thumb to knead the flesh. Press harder. Yes, like that." He bucks his hips, legs flailing and jostling at your sides. Darting your gaze to his face, you find him gnawing on his lip, veins dilated on his neck, face flushed with the pleasure that fires through him.   
  
_ Fuck he’s so sensitive. _ You had never thought much about a guy's balls, but looking at Sackler’s, you quiver with this unfamiliar, overwhelming need to play with them, to lick and choke on them. _   
_ _   
_ The scrambled mess that are your thoughts soon manifest into a stream of unfiltered comments. “They’re so big. Heavy. Adam, I need to use my other hand too." You keep readjusting your hold, cupping them again and again, as they keep slipping, escaping your feeble grip.

“No. One hand is enough, don’t you think about letting go of my cock. Keep massaging my big balls, just like that. Isn’t it nice? Does this make you fucking horny? I’d bet my cock that you’re dripping and no one’s even touching you right now,” he sneers, molding his hand around yours to help you cup him.

As if on cue, another wave of warm, gushing arousal pools in your core. The cool air makes you much more aware of the flowing wetness that lathers your thighs, creeps down your legs to coat the floor. Your knees bump against each other as you adjust yourself for the millionth time, trying to find a position that makes this less overwhelming. 

“No squirming. I see what you’re doing. Greedy little droid, can’t wait for your turn. This is about  _ me _ , not you. If you still want to cum, you better stop with your bullshit.” Adam nudges you with his foot, causing you to stumble closer. He takes the chance to press his knees together, sliding his calves to each side of your torso, keeping you pinned and tight against them.

A strained gasp escapes you at the sensation of being surrounded by his body, at the feeling of his hard muscles pressing your ribcage, making you inhale a little  _ less _ air with each breath.

“Where were we, hm?” he drawls. Sackler pretends to be deep in thought before tapping your hand that’s fondling his scrotum. “Do you think you got it? Learned how to play with them the way I like it?” He stills for a few seconds, waiting for you to misstep. 

You don’t. Clenching your jaw, you narrow your eyes at him, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards. “Sackler, you’re way too cocky for someone who has their balls gripped by another person’s hands. What if I squeezed them? Crushed them between my fingers, so hard that it makes you cry and beg for me to stop? Maybe they’re your off button, after all. So yeah, I’d be more careful the way you speak to me.” You experiment squeezing a tad harder, grinning as he jumps in his seat, growling a string of curses.

He tilts his head to the side, silent for a long time. Ice pools in your veins, each frantic heartbeat pumping them throughout your body, spreading its frigid hold until you’re keeping so very still, a helpless statue as you take in his reaction.

As he leans closer, you’re reassured by the softness of his eyes.

_ Maybe I didn’t piss him off, huh and here I was freaking out for no- _

“Cute,” he hisses.

There’s the fleeting sensation of knuckles caressing your cheek; an unyielding hold on your neck and then you’re flung backwards, body slamming against the ground. Your head is spared from the impact thanks to the hand that’s occupied in bruising your throat. In a flash he’s stradling your chest, knees pinning your arms down, the weight of his body a constant reminder that you’re trapped under him, at his mercy.

You thrash against him, legs kicking out, hips rising, swaying from side to side, up and down in an idiotic, useless attempt to disloge him. Anger and indignation surge across the expanse of your flesh. The more you hate him for seemingly knowing every fucking thing that arouses you, the hornier you get.  _ I’m not giving you the satisfaction of knowing you’re right, himbo. _

“Did the cat eat your tongue, little droid?” He reaches out behind him with a hand, raking his fingers from your knee to your thigh, slithering closer to your desperate, neglected cunt. “Not so brave now, aren’t you? Come on, try harder,” he urges, slapping the pliant flesh of your inner thigh, cock twitching at how soaked you are.

"Once I get free you're going to regret all of this, Sackler, I'm going to fuck you up." Squirming under him, you throw your whole body into it, groaning with frustration at how unbothered he is by your efforts.

"I'm waiting. Do it," he goads, shifting his weight so you can free your arms from under him. "Aww, you're almost hurting me, you can grip my forearms harder, I can take it. You know what… I don't think you want to break free at all, no no no, you want me to fucking crush you," his mouth distorts in a growl, showing the bottom row of his crooked teeth. The hand coiled around your neck presses harder, constricting your windpipe, sending a sharp, overwhelming current of pleasure up your spine.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” you choke out, tilting your head back so he can have more of your throat. Your hands settle at his hips, palming the rigid muscles, fingers sliding under his sweater and searching the softer flesh of his lower back.

“You like when I choke your little throat, hm?” he asks, coasting the skin of your thigh with his other hand, moving upwards until he’s inches away from touching your clit.

“Uh-huhmmpf,” you nod, rutting your hips to get some--or any kind of--friction. Darkness seeps through your vision, lights running out, making you hyperaware of the hand pinning you down, of every ridge of his calloused palm, the strength and girth of his massive fingers. A calm, soothing buzz washes over you, eyes rolling back, body eager to surrender to this gentle void.

He tuts, sitting back on his heels and resting both hands on his thighs; throwing a bucket of cold water on the pure relief that almost captured you.

“So impatient. I can do this game all night, do you really want to wait a long time to cum? We’re just getting started.” Sackler rakes his fingers down your chest, pressing on your sternum and then kneading and pinching at your clothed flesh. 

“You’re one to talk about  _ patience _ , given that you were hitting a computer fifteen minutes ago?” A soft rustle of fabric sounds as you shift in place, craning your neck to get a better view of where your bodies touch.  _ There it is. _ You snap both hands to wrap around his shaft, tugging it a few times as you try to adjust your grip in this awkward position.

Sackler’s jaw clenches, his mouth slacking open as he rewards you with a rough groan. “That’s different. When it comes to this,” he pinches your nipples through your shirt, “I'm as patient as a fucking yoga instructor. Don’t know if you've forgotten it, but I still haven’t taught you to jerk me off. I know you want to be a good girl and do it the right way. Don’t you?” He flicks his thumb up and down, time and time again until you’re a writhing, gasping mess.

The part of you that yearns for validation, praise of any kind in response to completing any task with excellence drowns the furious thoughts that complain of not having cum yet. "Yes, Sackler, you're right. I guess I can wait a little longer."

"Good girl, I knew you'd make the right choice," he quickens his pace, not giving you any second of relief, pulling another string of choked whines from your throat. Adam pinches harder and lets go, ears tuned to your frantic panting. "Ready?"

You roll your eyes. "Get on with it, you cocky-"

He pinches your nipples again, going harder and harder until you reward him with a hiss. "That's not the right vibe to be in when I'm trying to show you something important."

"You’re the only one who thinks your dick important."

"Then why haven't you let go of it yet?" he asks, stunning you into silence. "That's what I thought. You better keep a good grip on it. I'll be watching. Now take your hands and slide them up and down. Slowly." He braces both forearms on the sides of your head, leaning down to kiss your jaw.

Each breath you take has your body pressing up closer to his, chest to chest, hip to hip, your hands trapped in the middle while you heed to his words. As you reach the tip, you fumble to spread the leaking precum across his length, revelling at how  _ long _ it is. "Like that?" you mouth against his skin.

"Yes." His goatee scratches you a bit, but he doesn't let it sit for long, more than eager to press his warm lips against any sensitive spots. He rubs the bridge of his nose across your jawline, taking extra time to press wet, soft kisses that trail up until he's reached the corners of your mouth. "Keep going, you're doing so well." Leaning his weight further on you, he seizes the moment when you gasp to slide his tongue in.

He throws himself into the act, letting out a deep moan at how  _ pliant _ you’re for him, melting into his touch, mind overtaken by him, him, him.

Whatever urge you had to bonk Sackler with a keyboard vanishes, a candle extinguished by the wind. In turn, his presence fills every crevice in your mind, pushing into all your senses. Beneath the darkness of your closed eyes you feel his eyelashes tickling your skin, his tongue exploring yours, the weight of his body making you fight for each breath as it presses down on your chest.

Even in that clumsy entanglement of limbs you keep stroking his cock, straining to leave no area untouched. It twitches for a moment, your swear it does, and then when he starts fucking into your hands, you know he’s just as taken as you are. Going faster, you pull a growl from him, awakening a hunger for many, many more, for making him fall apart, giving him as much shit back.

Sackler breaks the kiss, mouth trembling, pupils blown out and animalistic. He allows himself a few seconds of restful pause, taking the time to grab the sides of your face and run his thumbs across your temples. “Open your eyes.”

You do so, blinking until he comes into focus. His beauty is so distracting that you slow down, giving his length lazy, gentle strokes. 

Adam’s eyes flutter shut, nose scrunching as he matches your speed, rolling his hips and pushing you further on the floor. “I knew you’d be good at this. You’re so fucking smart, helping me when I thought I’d tank the class,” he groans, warm breath pulling a shiver from you. “You want to make me feel good, don’t you? Want me to cum all over your hands?”

“I do,” you answer. “I want it- everywhere.”

"I’ll give it to you… shit, I'm so close. Go faster now, tighten your grip. Fuckshitfuck- that’s it, that’s fucking it," he groans, dropping his voice to an even deeper note.

“You’re going to cum for me? Make me all messy?” you goad, tightening your fists.

“‘Gonna make you walk home all dirty and wrecked, cum dripping e-everywhere.” Sackler’s past the point of no return.

When he closes his eyes, the incoming relief of his impending orgasm washing over his face, you remove your hands. “No, you’re not.”

A moment of thunderous silence passes as you regard his reaction, ears tuned to the feral, raging growl that rumbles on his chest. He chews and spits out your name, followed by a mess of words that are nothing but a conduit to his dumbfounded rage.

Leaping to his feet, he yanks you by your arms, hurling you to a kneeling position.

"Open. Stick your tongue out. Don't flinch." He taps your cheek, hand then pinching your jaw. "Nice try, but there’s no way your little stunt will work. You can’t stop me. There's so much cum for you… and you’ll take it all. Don't waste a drop."

Warm, thick ropes of cum spurt over your tongue, draping across your chin, a few errant drops falling on your chest, staining your dress. His cock twitches, tip angry, red and swollen, pulling incoherent noises from him as he fists his length through his climax.

He’s right, there’s  _ so much _ , you think, staying in place as his spend pools into your mouth, on the edge of spilling out and cascading down your chin.

Sackler hovers over you, tall, looming and sensual, milking the last drops of his release and stepping closer. His balls sway around and hit your chin, his shaft smacking you in the face, far heavier than you had assumed. You’d cuss him out if your mouth wasn’t filled with something else.

Nudging his palm under your chin, he cants your head back, fingers clamping your mouth shut. “Take it all down your whore throat.”

Eyes flitting to his, you swallow, needing more than one try to get it all. 

Once you’re done, he releases his grip on you, tugging his ever hard cock and lowering his balls over your mouth. He smacks the shaft on your face a few times. “Bend over the desk. Ass up.”

You not so accidentally slap him away, hitting his balls. “Why?”

“Because I fucking said so.”

Complying to his order, you approach the table, stretching your body over it until your ass is nice and exposed, dripping cunt on display for him. The wooden edge digs into your hips, and the thought of his body folded over yours, pinning you down again makes you drip his name in a soft whisper. Tremors racket across your bare skin, cold, stale air making every little hair on your body stand. 

He rakes a finger down your spine. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Kid?”

  
“I just retributed the ruined orgasm. I’d do it again. Felt pretty fair,” you reply.

“It wasn’t,” he snaps.

“No? Aww, are your big dumb balls hurting? Such a tragedy,” you turn your head to look at him, offering a smile.

“You’re damn right it is. You don’t get to do that. Not without consequences. Keep your eyes forward, don’t want you peeking anything.” He steps away for a moment and then a racket of noise echoes into the lab. “You did say something about a keyboard earlier, didn’t you?”

“I… yes,” you say, a line creasing between your eyebrows.

“How curious.”

Something cold and plastic touches your skin and you twitch, startled by the sudden sensation.

_ He did not just... _

“Ready?”

The anticipation is the worst. It wraps time, twisting each second into an agonizing eternity, casting a veil of silence that drowns every noise--even the soft sound of your breathing. Tension rushes across your body, coiling each muscle as you await for the impact. Letting out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, you tighten your grip on the edge of the desk.

You’re half-tempted to crane your neck to the side and look behind you-   
  
A loud slap prevents your thought from ever completing, the sound rippling into the quiet room, shocking you into quiescence. A second later, paint erupts across the supple flesh of your ass, kindling fire under your skin, the sheer force of it jostling your body forward. Your legs buckle, knees colliding with each other as they fold under the impact.

As the paint ebbs and flows, timed to your pounding heart, you feel the beginnings of a different kind of ache. 

Wetness pools and drips out of your throbbing cunt, gliding down your entrance and drenching your neglected clit. It trickles down your thighs and then spreads over your skin as you rub them together in the hopes of getting any friction at all.

“Stop squirming,” Sackler barks. “That was zero. Keep counting, now.”

He coasts a finger across the surface of your ardent skin, tracing the blooming, angry marks, the physical evidence of his ministrations. He digs his nails in, clawing at the area in the gentlest way possible, observing each tremor that runs across your body as you push your ass into his palm.

Leaning forward, he runs his lips over your ass, peppering kisses down down down. His goatee scratches you, the sharp sensation of it sending tingles down your spine.

“Sackler, this feels so g-” you whine.

He pulls away, snapping both hands to press down on your shoulder blades, murmuring against the shell of your ear. “Shh… shh… be quiet for me, ok? The only thing I want to hear out of you are numbers, got it?”

"O-okay," you agree, sinking your teeth on your lower lip.

As he rises, he runs his palms down your back, breaking the contact just as he reaches your hips. “Let’s see how good you are with numbers...” 

He strikes again, a second ticks by before you feel the impact, this time on the other side. Again your legs buckle, hips rising as you rock them back and forth in an attempt to ease the mounting pressure on your core.

“One.”

Sackler hums, pleased, running his knuckles in the spot he just hit, feeling how  _ warm _ and soft and perfect it is, how well your body takes what he’s offering. 

Two, three, four come and go in a blur for you, it takes an embarrassingly long time to even remember what number you’re supposed to say. How can you, when each time his massive hand slaps your battered ass you leap a step closer to cumming, to letting go of all this energy that has been building up all night.

"Fuck, God, Sackler-" you shriek, as the fifth strike hits you. By now you’re trickling freely on the floor, wetness running down your thighs, knees, so much more than you thought was possible. Your cunt clenches around nothing, yearning for something, anything to fill it.

"That's not a number, little droid." He tracks the pads of his fingers across your heat, prying your lips apart, teasing your entrance with his middle finger.

“Five,” you breathe, tears running down your cheeks.

“That’s fucking right,” he yanks his hand and just as you miss the warmth of it, he whacks the underside of your ass.

“Didn’t know you could count that high,” you drawl, joke dying in your throat when he grazes his fingers over your pussy, spreading the never-ending wetness everywhere . His name pours a thousand times from your mouth, as your body is  _ this  _ close to succumbing to your impending release.    
  
He shushes you, massaging and kneading your butt, pinching the yielding flesh, the gentlest of touches enough to make you quiver and twitch and squirm for him. His cock throbs and aches, swolled, red and ready to burst. Steel-hard. Leaking and neglected. Almost exploding with the obscene amount of cum that he’s already imagining pumping inside you, making you take it all and keep it safe for him. He hopes you’ll want to crash at his place, there’s countless more things he wants to do with you. The idea of telling you how to clean the mess you make of him, shove your drenched underwear in your mouth

Another sequence of numbers whistle by and your brain is half-aware of it, thoughts fleeing your head as your body is an overloaded, tight, livewire… and Sackler’s doing his best to blow you up.

“Ten,” you whisper, hoping you’re keeping the right count.

“No. Hexadecimal.”

_ Fuck. _

“A...” Four slaps in quick succession, so gentle that you’re unsure if he’s doing anything other than tapping your bruised ass with two fingers. “B! CDE!”

Still, that’s more than enough to keep you burning, limbs slackened and pliant, head empty except for registering the searing pleasure that’s firing every nerve you’ve got.

“Last one.” He’s breathless, yet the rumble of his voice echoes deep on your chest. “Take it, like the good slut I know you want to be.”

His words seal it, there’s no way you can hold back. “I think I’m going to- ” A loud, sharp sound echoes in the room and a second later your whole clit is on fire. The impact is sharp; precise enough to make you clench around nothing, strong enough to tip the scale towards pain and ruin your budding orgasm.   
  
“Not so nice when someone ruins your fun, is it?” he mocks.

“You’re an asshole,” you whisper.

“Yes, I am,” without warning, he encircles your entrance with two fingers and pummels them inside, coaxing a languid moan from you.

“So, this is it? All that talk and you’re going to just fuck me with your fingers?” 

"I'm not doing this to  _ fuck  _ you, I'm doing it to get you nice and stretched for my cock. We don't want to have any trouble, right?" He nips at your ass, sinking his crooked teeth in your skin.

Brittle words come out between your clenched teeth, “How are your fingers so fucking  _ long _ ?”

“What? Are they too much for your little tight pussy?”

“No, I’m barely feeling anything,” you shake your head, exhaling a hard breath.

"Yeah, really? I can help you with that.” Sackler twists his hand, stretching you up a little more. “Don't forget not to cum just yet."

Your thighs spread apart, beckoning him to sink deeper. “Why are you poking around in there, looking for gold?”

“You could say so, but I’m looking for that special spot- there it is.” He curls his digits, raking the rough pads of his fingers across your front walls. “Don’t have much to say now, do you? Oh,  _ look at you _ . Smart girl gets so dumb when I ram her tight cunt, doesn’t she?”

Your head lolls to the side, mind dizzy with euphoria. “Screw y-you.”

He keeps at it a while longer, hooking his index and middle fingers of both hands into your entrance, tugging you open and loose to fit him.

All that you’re able to fire back are pitiful and broken moans, voice unstable, needy for him to finish what he started.

“Since I’m already here I could fuck your tight ass, couldn’t I? Stretch you so hard, make you gape wide and scramble your guts, hm?” His thumb runs across your ass, massaging your puckered hole. A soft laugh tumbles out of his throat when you rutt your hips in his direction. He spits, mesmerized as the liquid hits and splatters against your asshole. “A good idea… for another time. Time to get up.”

Sackler embraces you from behind, looping an arm around your stomach and cradling your throat with his other hand, pulling you up against his chest. He turns around so that his back is aligned with the desk, then settling down and keeping you flush on his lap. Pinching your thigh, he prompts you to shift positions and face him, straddling his thighs. 

His cock bobs by your lower belly, your head spinning as you take notice of how long it manages to look across your torso.

Your hands snap to his broad chest for support, mindlessly tracing a path. 

He clears his throat. “My eyes are up here.” Sackler hooks two fingers under your chin and tilts your face up. “Don’t play the ‘I’m so cute’ game with me now. I saw the way you were eyeing my chest,” he accuses.

A flush scatters across your face, ears heating up at his truthful statement. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in reality, but you like the way he’s reproaching you. In the beginning you had low expectations for him, thought he’d be a fun but rather uneventful one-night stand, you thought you were rational and collected. Detached. Aloof. Whatever  _ this _ is, it’s turning into something more personal that you can’t categorize yet.

Working your lower lip between your teeth, you coast your hand down the expanse of his chest, astonished how even through a thick layer of clothing, it’s nothing short of perfection. Hard, soft, big, warm; firm muscles resisting as you dig your fingers, cupping him. At last you reach the hem of his sweater, fiddling with the material. “Off?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Use your teeth.” He spreads his thighs so you can shuffle closer.

Bracing your hands over his thighs, you dive to bite at the edge of the garment, keeping it tight between your teeth and working your way up. As you undress him, irritation pounds on your head because you can’t fucking see the body beneath the fabric you’re peeling off.  _ Just a little more and I can finally see what he’s packing _ .

He raises his arms and you tug off his sweater, throwing it somewhere no one gives a fuck about. 

Your imagination could never hold a candle to reality. It’s perfect. Impeccable. Faultless. You kiss each of his pecs, trying to leave no beauty mark untouched, running your tongue on the middle of his chest, tasting the salt of his ivory skin.

When you lick one of his nipples, he jerks his hips so hard you almost fall over.

"Ride me. Do all the work. You want to cum?  _ Take it _ ," he snarls.

He entangles his hand at the back of his neck, eyes roaming your figure as you mount him. The sight of you sinking onto his cock, swallowing his length into you again and again is something he doesn’t want to forget anytime soon. Sounds rise above the quietness. Labored breaths. Flesh slapping flesh. The rattling of the wooden desk each time his body slams against it.

Legs opening wider to accommodate the breadth of his thighs, a slow, deep ache begins to settle on your lower half, muscles straining to keep you rocking against him. “How are you even this  _ big _ ? My thighs will be a bruised mess tomorrow.” 

“You’re welcome,” he fires back, a smile etching across his face. He lifts his hips to meet yours, driving even deeper, hissing as you tighten around him in surprise. “When tonight’s over, you won’t be able to sit down without remembering me.” Sackler leans down, running the bridge of his nose over the side of your face, kissing the corner of your jaw, roaming down the length of your neck. He blows cool air into your skin, relishing at how you shiver for him, body receptive to anything he does.

"Sackler, you’re insufferable. Fuck you." You paw at his forearm, fingers tugging on his wrist to guide it to your throat.

“No,  _ fuck you _ .” He starts snapping his hips up to meet yours, splitting you deeper. 

“I said it first,” you fire back, eyes fluttering shut when he rocks harder against you.

“Still wanting to keep the upper hand?” He clutches you to his chest, hissing over your ear, breath tickling your face. “Don't you dare stop bouncing on my cock.” 

Sackler digs his fingers into the soft, squishy flesh of your lower back. Guiding you back and forth, he makes sure you feel every inch of him.

"Don't hold back this time. When you're ready, let go for me," he mouths against your skin. 

Adam guides one hand up your body to cradle your neck while the other lowers to tease your ass.

“Perfect, you’re fucking flawless, taking all of me so well. Want me to squeeze your pathetic little throat tighter?” He waits for you to tell him what he already knows, yearning for your desperate acquiescence. “Only if you clamp down on my cock.” 

He squeezes the column of your throat, sputtering broken curses when your cunt flutters around him.

It doesn't take long for him to fall apart, your name flowing from his mouth, moving his thumb to flick your clit and then you're gone too.

Warm, hot cum paints your walls, an almost endless torrent, filling whatever small space that’s not occupied by his thick cock.

As Sackler pulls out, he milks his shaft of all he has left, stuffing you full.

“Let me put this back where it belongs. Tilt your hips up, just like that. Gonna keep it safe and warm for me?” He pushes his cum inside, gathering all the mess with the tip of his finger and tucking it back into your sore pussy.   


You nod in a daze, forgetting that he  _ did  _ rip your underwear, and that his cum will probably run down your thigh as you walk home, but that’s not something you want to worry about right now.

Once he’s done, he helps you stand, offering a thick forearm for you to hold. Gravity pulls its strings and you feel the soft trickle of his spend just past your entrance, but you vow to keep as much as you’re able to safe and warm. Where it belongs.

“You owe me a new pair of leggings, Sackler,” you huff, trying to look presentable as you pull, tug and smooth down your dress. Whatever is left of your discarded garment somehow got tangled in one of the chairs. 

“I’ll make it back to you. Pinky promise,” he says, dressing himself up.

“I’ll hold you to your word,” you poke his chest, reaching past him to pick up the shreds of fabric.

“Ah ah ah. Give it to me, I’ve earned it,” He yanks it from your hand, shoving it without a care in the world into his shoulder bag.

You bend down to pick up your belongings, but he stops you.

“Let me get that.” He slings your backpack over his shoulder, reaching out to you with his other hand.

You take it, letting him pull you closer as you walk out, side-by-side, into the unlit hallway. As you roam the empty building, under the watchful lenses of security cams, you hope that whatever cosmic clusterfuck that made this possible doesn’t stop anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Glad that I managed to push this first part before 2021! I spent the whole month with this on my mind, hope you enjoy it! As always, I'd love to know what you thought about it, Sackler's just the best little shit, isn't he?


End file.
